


In That Old Bow Tie He Found

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Magic, Snowman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 12:24:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you know what Christmas is?"</p><p>Blaine laughs, and it’s the first time Kurt’s heard it. Again, it sounds strange, too human, but it’s a pleasant and cheery sound.</p><p>"Of course I do, Kurt. Everyone knows what Christmas is."</p><p>Even, apparently, magic, talking snowmen named Blaine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In That Old Bow Tie He Found

"Snow!"

Kurt jerks awake, lifting his head from the comfort of his pillow and glancing around in a dazed panic.

"Kurt"

He blinks until his eyes focus and narrow in on Finn standing in his doorway, smiling excitedly under a beanie and a scarf.

"What have I told you about  _knocking?_ " Kurt groans, sitting up reluctantly and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It’s not that Kurt is a particularly late riser, but it’s—he glances at his clock, groans again—hardly seven in the morning, and Kurt usually gets up around eight. He subconsciously brushes his fingers through his hair, frowning at his very apparent bed head.

"Oh, right." Finn at least has the decency to look a little regretful. “Sorry, dude." He steps out of Kurt’s room, grabbing hold of the door and nearly closing it as he goes. Kurt doesn’t even have time to be confused, because then Finn is knocking rapidly on his door.

At least Finn’s heart is in the right place, even if his brain isn’t always. 

"Come in, Finn," Kurt mutters, wryly amused, and then Finn bounds in, his face lit up with the kind of childish excitement most people grow out of.

"Dude, it’s snowing!" He throws his hands out, like he’s presenting the most exciting thing in the world, but Kurt just stares blankly back at him. “Come on! First snow of the year. We have to go, like, run around in it. And stuff."

And stuff.

"Finn. It’s seven in the morning, I haven’t even  _looked_  in a mirror yet, and have I ever come across to you as the sort of person that does  _stuff_  in the snow?" Snow actually isn’t all that bad, and Kurt had loved it as a kid. But snow usually means shoveling out the driveway and the walkway and scotchguarding most of his clothing.

"Everyone loves snow." It’s simple, to Finn, and he’s looking so expectantly at Kurt that it’s sort of like talking to a big, endearingly dumb puppy. “I promise not to throw any of it at you. We can just, like, build snowmen and stuff."

Kurt’s mouth draws into a thin line, and he thinks of all the heavier winter clothing he owns and hasn’t gotten to wear for the past eight months. That, combined with Finn’s hopeful looks, makes Kurt groan in defeat.

“ _Fine_." Finn pumps his fist in victory. “But give me at least an hour and a half to get ready."

"Sure, whatever, this is going to be  _awesome_." Kurt’s up and out of bed, Finn already rambling about snow forts, and snow tunnels, and snow angels. Kurt ushers him from the room, his smile exasperated, and closes the door on excited talk of snowman accessories. The only kind of accessories that can ever work Finn Hudson into a frenzy, apparently.

Kurt heads for the bathroom, humming  _Frosty the Snowman_  under his breath.

*

They aren’t even outside for an hour before Finn is bored with the snow.  _Typical_. Kurt snaps him an annoyed glare as he trudges inside, covered in flecks of snow and shaking them off himself like a dog. Kurt watches him go and then lets out an exasperated sigh—it’s reason enough for him to go inside, except for the whole _snowman_  business. It had been Finn’s idea to make it a contest, and yet Finn had basically piled snow together in a mound and stuck a (baby) carrot in what should be its face.

It would have been enough for Kurt to just give it up then, retreat back to the warm house where he could spend the day watching marathons and drinking hot chocolate. But once Kurt starts something, he isn’t one to give up halfway through. If he’s going to make a snowman, it’s going to have the decency to at least look right.

"Where did Finn even learn to make a snowman?" He grumbles to himself, patting the snow of it’s head with his gloves. " _With a corncob pipe and a button nose_ … Well, I don’t have a corncob pipe, so you’ll just have to settle for what I do have."

Actually, the supplies Kurt does have at his disposal is kind of impressive. He has no idea where Finn managed to find all of it (and doesn’t really  _want_  to ask, anyway).

"I do have a button nose for you, though." And two pebbles that will work much better than coal for eyes—not that Kurt would even know where to  _find_  coal. Who uses coal anymore?

Two leaves for eyebrows (a little triangular, but they work), a curved twig for the snowman’s slanted smile, and some old mittens (courtesy of Finn’s mystery supplies) attached to sticks to make arms and hands. He steps back, admiring his handiwork and then frowning.

"You need a hat. Or at the very least some accessories." Kurt doesn’t remember seeing any hats in Finn’s box of things, and he’s not about to sacrifice one of his own to the cause. He does find a few more buttons, and really wishes their was a scarf or something  _decorative_  that he could pass for a brooch of some sort—that’s when his fingers brush fabric. He grabs, eyebrows piqued in interest, and pulls out a a Christmas red… Bow tie?

"Where on earth did Finn get this?" Kurt muses to himself. It’s a little dirty, and weatherworn, and the material is more threadbare than Kurt would ever wear himself. But it’s just a snowman.

"This will make you look quite dapper, won’t it, Frosty?"

Kurt’s thankful that he made it’s neck on the thinner side, even if he does feel ridiculous knotting a bow tie onto a lump of snow. It will, at the very least, be the best dressed lump of snow this side of Lima (and maybe in the entirety of Lima, but Kurt isn’t about to proclaim himself a snowman making expert or anything of the sort).

"There. I don’t think you’re ready for Snowmen Vogue or anything, but… Not too shabby."

Kurt Hummel, stylist to the snow.

He adjusts the bow tie until it falls just right, smiles at his success, and then finally allows himself to feel the cold that’s been seeping into his bone for at least the last half hour.

"Thank you."

"You’re—" Kurt falters. The reply had been automatic, the same way he instantly says “bless you" whenever he hears someone sneeze. His first thought is to look around for Finn, because of course Finn must be playing a joke on him. Who else could have said that?

Kurt conveniently forgets that it hadn’t sounded anything  _like_  Finn.

"Hello?" He turns in a circle, looking around their yard, but he can’t see anybody. “Is anyone there?" He comes to a stop in front of his snowman again—it blinks.

…it  _blinks_.

"I have been outside too long," Kurt mutters to himself.

The snowman blinks at him again, and then its twig of a mouth twitches, splits,  _oh god_ , it’s like a  _horror_  movie.

"Hello?"

Kurt stares at the snowman, and the snowman stares back, its leafy eyebrows emoting over its shining pebble eyes.

Kurt screams and falls back in the snow.

The snowman screams back and tumbles backwards.

It says a lot that no one runs outside to check on him—then again, it was more of a rough yell than a full, blood-curdling scream, but  _oh god_ , his snowman is  _talking_  and  _moving_  and Kurt may have lost his mind.

Or maybe he has hypothermia. Does hypothermia induce hallucinations?

Kurt realizes he’s lying in the  _snow_ , and, possessed snowman or hysterical hallucination aside, he is wearing a  _Vivienne Westwood_  coat and there is no way he is letting it get ruined. He slowly lifts himself up, dusting snow off his sleeves and shuddering—even a few seconds with his back in the snow has made him uncomfortable. The lump of snow that was the snowman is just sitting there, and Kurt is sure that he definitely just hallucinated.

It’s probably best if he goes inside.

He picks himself up, frowning as he pushes more snow from his legs.

Something groans, and the snow by his feet shifts.

"Oh god," Kurt mutters, taking a step back as the  _snowman_  lifts himself up from the ground. It’s rubbing at its head with an arm now made entirely of snow, the glove not limp but filled with what Kurt can only assume is snow fingers. That would make sense, right?

Who is he kidding? Nothing makes sense right now.

What was once clumped snow shifts into leg-shaped snow, and the snowman is standing up, tipping precariously from side to side and blinking his light-colored pebbles in confusion. Or… Eyes? They’re supposed to be eyes, and they’re… Moving like eyes. Blinking.

Wow, this is way too much for this early in the day. Or, ever.

"Woah," the snowman says, and… It’s voice is surprisingly pleasant to listen to. And male. It would figure Kurt would make a male snowman (then again, aren’t snowmen male by default?). He flexes his fingers, stares around them in wonder, and touches at the buttons on his chest and the bow tie tied around his throat.

Kurt isn’t sure what to do—he feels the overwhelming urge to faint, and, perhaps, to wake up in his bed and realize there was never a snowman to begin with. But he’s rooted to the snow, staring as the snowman continues to poke at himself.

"This…" The snowman’s mouth, a stick moments ago, is just as expressive as any mouth would be now—his button nose twitches, his eyebrows raise and furrow. It’s disturbing and kind of wonderful at the same time. “I’m alive."

At least the snowman sounds as weirded out by it as Kurt does.

"There must have been some magic…" Kurt mumbles to himself, and the snowman looks up, blinking in surprise, as if he didn’t know Kurt was there at all. “In that old bow tie I found…"

The snowman touches the bow tie, attempting to look down at it, and… Well, he’s still got a rather round head, even if the top looks a little more stylized (like snow shaped into hair) than Kurt remembers making it.

"Hello?" The snowman asks, unsurely, and Kurt flounders—there’s still the option of running.

But he doesn’t.

"Um. Hi." Kurt doesn’t remember the part in the movie where the children came to terms with the walking, talking snowman. They’d all just sort of accepted it. Kurt is still trying to convince himself that it’s all a dream.

"I’m alive," the snowman says again, and he smiles, and—apparently he has cheeks, because they round up and his pebble-eyes narrow happily.

"I, uh… See. That."

"Thank you."

Kurt doesn’t really expect to be thanked.

"…for what?"

The snowman is still tottering back and forth, like a child learning to walk, and, well, Kurt supposes that has some merit—this snowman has probably never walked before. Kurt can’t help but wonder what would happen if it feel and he tried to grab him; would his hand sink right through the snow and ultimately dismember him?

Kurt doesn’t remember Frosty having to deal with this shit.

"You made me. And you gave me life."

Kurt’s worried for a moment that the snowman is going to start doing something weird, like calling him dad, and just—no, absolutely not.

"I-I didn’t, you just…"

"You said," the snowman states, matter-of-factly. “Magic in the bow tie." The snowman taps it with his gloved hand. Kurt can’t help but wonder if that really  _is_  the reason, although he can hardly come up with a better one (fever dream is still his number one explanation, though).

"I suppose I did…" Kurt mumbles. If he takes the bow tie off, will the snowman stop talking and moving and freaking him out? It’s certainly worth a try, only—the snowman seems so  _happy_. Would that be murder? Is there a word for snowman murder? Frostycide?

Then again, not all snowmen are named Frosty.

"Do you… Have a name?" Kurt asks, hesitantly, and the snowman looks contemplative (and he is  _really_  going to have to adjust to this whole snowman-having-facial-expressions thing).

"I don’t know," the snowman says, staring at Kurt. “You never gave me one."

"I never…" Kurt’s mouth keeps moving, as if words are trying to come out but he’s not making any sound. “I’m not going to  _name_  you, that’s…"  _Weird_. It’s one thing if it’s just a snowman, but this one is  _sentient_.

The snowman frowns.

"Do you have a name?" The snowman asks, and Kurt nods, slowly.

"Kurt. My name is Kurt."

"Kurt. That’s a nice name, but not right for me… I’ll have to name myself." The snowman wobbles around contemplatively, but there’s nothing around with writing on it except license plates, and Kurt is perfectly ready to tell the snowman that APL 9956 is not a name. If snowmen can read.

Kurt really feels like he should sit down.

Except then the snowman has found the paper still sitting on their front lawn, spreading it out on the snow and skimming through it. So, apparently, they can read. Kurt can’t help but wonder what else they can do, or know. Is it a part of the magic? Do they know the names of things, just like that, or will Kurt have to explain things to him?

Woah, wait, since when is this  _his_  responsibility?

 _I did make him. And bring him to life_.

Dammit.

"Ah!" The snowman shouts in victory, and Kurt walks slowly towards him. He isn’t sure if he should be afraid of the snowman, or cautious of him, but at least he  _seems_ friendly and harmless enough. After all, Kurt could just knock his head off if he was actually threatening right? “This one."

The snowman is pointing to a weather report, a big snowflake inked in the box for that day and followed by temperatures. Kurt is about to point out that a symbol for a snowflake isn’t a  _name_ , and maybe snowmen  _can’t_  read, when he notices the name right below the report.

"Blaine? Really?" Kurt looks at him, eyebrow raised judgmentally. “You can pick any name and you go with Blaine?"

The snowman’s— _Blaine’s_ —smile falters.

"You don’t like it?"

Wow, Kurt isn’t sure if he’s ever seen a sadder face in the entirety of his life.

"I, um… No, it’s. It’s great, that’s a great name, it… Suits you." Kurt winces. He would have been perfectly fine calling Mr. Snowman Frosty or something cliché, but then again, maybe that’s why Kurt doesn’t have pets. He’s horrible at naming things. So it really doesn’t matter what Kurt thinks of Blaine’s name, because he picked it himself, and he’s a  _snowman_ , and, really, it’s not like he’s going to live very long anyway.

"Now what?" Blaine asks, looking at Kurt, and he stares back at him with just as much confusion.

"Excuse me?"

"I’ve never been alive before. I don’t know what comes next."

It’s really such a simple way to look at things, but Kurt still doesn’t have an answer for him, even if he looks at Kurt as if Kurt does.

"Um, well." The only thing Kurt has to fall back on are Christmas movies and carols, and so that’s exactly what he does. "…he began to dance around," he mutters to himself, looking over at Blaine and deciding that he doesn’t look steady enough to dance. Maybe Frosty was just more naturally graceful, because Blaine is reminding Kurt an awful lot of a newborn Bambi. “What comes next?" Blaine tilts his head curiously, as Kurt tries to remember the words. " _Frosty the snowman was alive as he could be…_ ”

"Who’s Frosty?" Blaine asks, snapping Kurt out of his reverie.

"Hmm?"

"Frosty the snowman. Who’s that?"

"He’s, uh… The only time I’ve ever vaguely heard of a snowman coming to life before." Kurt scrunches up his nose, but it’s the truth.  _Is a fairy tale they say_. Maybe not so much. “So maybe that will… Tell us. What we’re supposed to do. Um, where was I?"

“ _Was alive as he could be_ ," Blaine sings. Just like that, he’s singing, and it catches Kurt completely off guard. Never mind the fact that snowmen shouldn’t have  _vocal cords_ , this one can sing. Okay.

"…right." Kurt swallows. " _Was alive as he could be, and… And the children say he could laugh and play, just the same as you and me_."

"Laugh and play?" Blaine asks, and his eyes might be pebbles, but they light up at the thought. “That sounds fun."

"I…" Kurt’s hands move around uselessly in the air. He doesn’t know hot to  _entertain_  a snowman, he can hardly entertain a  _person_ , this is just… It’s too much. A car drives by, and Blaine turns to watch it in excitement, but Kurt is suddenly reminded that he’s talking to a snowman in his front yard.

"I… Here, come with me." He’s grabbing the snowman’s hand without thinking about it, and the hand should probably be fat and plump and  _melting_ … But it’s not. It’s like holding someone’s hand, albeit a very cold one. Blaine stumbles after him, staring down at their hands.

"What’s this?" He asks, and it takes Kurt a moment to realize what he’s asking.

"…holding hands." So maybe snowmen don’t come to life with all the knowledge they need to know about the world.

"Your hand is warm," Blaine marvels, and Kurt can’t help but feel himself flush a little bit (and then feel ridiculous for it).

"Well, you’re made of snow, that’s not saying very much," Kurt drawls, coming to a stop once they’re blocked from the rest of the world by his house. Kurt throws a worried look towards the house, but Finn probably won’t come outside looking for him. He probably thinks Kurt went inside already—once Finn is playing video games, he is _lost_  to the world.

"Now we laugh and play?" Blaine asks eagerly, and he’s still holding onto Kurt’s hand, swinging it back and forth.

"…sure. What… Did you have in mind?" It’s unfair of Kurt to ask, really. Blaine didn’t even know what hand holding was, why would he suddenly have a list of favorite things to do?

"Can we do what you did before?"

Kurt blinks, confused.

"What was I doing before?"

“ _Was alive as he could be_ ," Blaine sings, and then stares at Kurt expectantly.

"…singing? You want to sing?" Kurt feels dumbfounded.

"Sing! Yes. We should sing. Can we?" Blaine looks so excited.

"…we? You… You want to sing with  _me?_ ”

Blaine nods.

"I… Okay, what song?"

"…oh. I don’t know. I don’t know any songs. Are songs what you sing?" Blaine asks, and Kurt can’t help but smile at how childishly puzzled he looks.

"Generally." Kurt chews his lip, thoughtfully. “I… Guess I’ll teach you the rest of Frosty the Snowman, and then we can just sing more Christmas songs." Kurt pauses, tilting his head. “Do you know what Christmas is?"

Blaine laughs, and it’s the first time Kurt’s heard it. Again, it sounds strange, too  _human_ , but it’s a pleasant and cheery sound.

"Of course I do, Kurt. Everyone knows what Christmas is."

Even, apparently, magic, talking snowmen named Blaine.

"Right, okay, so just. Sing it, then you can sing it back at me, okay?"

Blaine nods.

It feels a little like performing, and Kurt shouldn’t feel that little trill of nerves, only he does.  _It’s just a magic snowman, he isn’t about to condemn your dreams of performing_. Kurt rolls his shoulders, and stands up a little straighter, and feels ridiculous for taking a Christmas carol  _so seriously_.

“ _Frosty the snowman was a jolly, happy soul. With a corn cob pipe and a button nose, and two eyes made out of coal—_ ”

"My eyes are made out of pebbles," Blaine corrects. “And I do not have a pipe."

Kurt can’t help it—he laughs, and Blaine seems confused before he starts laughing, too.

"It’s a song, Blaine. It isn’t about you."

"It could be," Blaine replies, affronted. " _Bl-aine the snowman is a friendly, happy boy. With mitten hands and a button nose, and eyes full of joy_."

Kurt has to admit that he’s rather impressed—Blaine not only remembers the tune of the song perfectly, but he altered the lyrics, just like that. He certainly is a virtuoso of a snowman.

"How about we change the song for you after we finish it, okay?" Kurt smiles, and wonders how he went from being significantly concerned for his mental state to almost enjoying himself. Blaine nods, and then waits some more, and Kurt squares his shoulders and starts again.

“ _Frosty the snowman is a fairy tale they say. He was made of snow, but the children know that he came to life one day_ —"

"Me too! So did I!"

"Blaine!"

"Sorry."

“ _There must have been some magic in that old silk hat they found. For when they placed it on his head, he began to dance around_."

"It was a bow tie."

Kurt rolls his eyes, and then presses a smile between his lips as Blaine begins to totter back and forth.

"What are you doing, Blaine?"

"Dancing. This is dancing, isn’t it?" He tips and tilts and flails his arms when he almost bowls over backwards.

"That’s nearly falling over. Maybe it’s better if you don’t dance." Kurt steadies him, hands settling on his wet, cold, snow arms. They give a little, but smooth out the second he moves his hands away. Kurt supposes, when magics involved, that anything is really possible.

"Keep going?" Blaine asks, looking hopeful. “Please?"

For a snowman, he certainly has good manners. And, well, he’s a willing audience, and how often does Kurt get one of those?

“ _Frost the snowman, was alive as he could be. And the children say he could laugh and play, just the same as you and me_." Blaine laughs, for emphasis. “And… This is the thumpity-thump-thump part."

"The what?"

"They… You’re supposed to go,  _thumpity-thump-thump, thumpity-thump-thump_."

Blaine mimics it back at him, eyes lighting.

“ _Look at Frosty go!_ " Kurt interrupts, and then waves his hand towards Blaine, and repeats his part with gusto and excitement, and Kurt is grinning by the time he’s singing, " _Over the hills of snow_."

“ _Thumpity—_ ”

"No, Blaine, no more thumpity’s. There are more later, though," Kurt is quick to assure at Blaine’s crestfallen look. He’s kind of like a small child, and Kurt is surprised how much patience he’s showing. He isn’t normally an incredibly patient person, but, well, Blaine is so  _endearing_. He makes a motion for Kurt to continue, so Kurt does.

“ _Frosty the snowman knew the sun was hot that day, so he said, “Let’s run! And we’ll have some fun! Now, before I melt away—"_ ”

"What?" Blaine looks horrified, and it takes Kurt a moment to realize the lyrics he just sung. “I…" Blaine looks up (he obviously knows what the sun is), and then back at Kurt. “I’m going to… I’m going to melt?"

"Blaine—"

"I don’t. I don’t want to  _melt_ , Kurt. I’m alive, I like being alive, I don’t want to melt, I don’t want to die."

Kurt hardly knows how to deal with hysterical people, much less hysterical  _snowmen_. But Blaine is hysterical, wobbling around in distress and Kurt hops forward to grab him before he tips over.

"Blaine." Kurt doesn’t know what to say, feels all the sentiments lodge in his throat. Because eventually the snow will melt, and Blaine will melt with it, if he’s not destroyed before then. He touches Blaine’s arm hesitantly now, patting it as comfortingly as he can.

"What did Frosty do?" Blaine asks, miserably, and Kurt chews his lip some more as he remembers—they’re getting chapped, now, him being out in the cold so long.

"They sent him to the North Pole…"

"Then that’s what we need to do." Blaine turns toward Kurt so suddenly it’s startling, and he takes Kurt’s hands in his. “Please help me get there. Please help me."

Kurt doesn’t even know if he can send something to the North Pole, and he isn’t about to march around Ohio with a walking, talking,  _magic_  snowman. But Blaine is staring at him, and Kurt doesn’t know if he’s ever seen anything look so hopeless.

"Okay," he says, without thinking about it. “I’ll help you. We’ll figure something out, and I’ll help you."

"I won’t melt?" Blaine asks, eyebrows raising hopefully, and it tugs at Kurt’s heart.

"Not if I have anything to say about it."


End file.
